


Parasite

by thedrunkenwerewolf



Series: Heirverse: Phase 1 (Game) [15]
Category: Bleach
Genre: Bipolar Disorder, Darkness Infects, Inspired by Music, Introspection, M/M, Parasites, References to Depression, Self-Hatred, Voice being a dick, blurring the lines between Aizen and Monster, darkness within, hate what you are, inspired by some dark indie games, needs series context to make any sort of sense, story cross references, testrun for other stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-14
Updated: 2019-07-14
Packaged: 2020-06-28 03:35:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19803889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thedrunkenwerewolf/pseuds/thedrunkenwerewolf
Summary: AiGin. Heirverse phase 1. The Voice makes itself heard and Aizen can't help but feel like a parasite due to its influence. Takes place sometime before events in Safe Harbour.





	Parasite

**Author's Note:**

> Business: i only own the Voice/Monster/Parasite.
> 
> A/n: Testing some ideas for other possible pieces called Darkness within & Darkness infects. I've been playing The Cat Lady and Downfall and the themes in there with the parasites Susan has to kill (and Joe Davis) got my brain working. I've yet to play Lorelai but that's next on my list.
> 
> Notes/warnings: bipolar references and symptoms. Voice being a dick. Darkness within trope abused as standard. Slight hate what you are. I Advise to read my other story 'Pact' for this to make sense of "why the voice?". 
> 
> Takes place somewhere in phase 1 before Safe Harbour.

**Parasite**

His fingers danced over the keys of the piano, an outlet for his mounting agitation. This happened sometimes. More often than he would like, but it happened. He'd rather it not happen at all but he didn't have a say in the matter.

He frowned as he worked, desperate to keep his hands - and his mind - busy. He knew if left unchecked and unoccupied his mind would turn on itself; a sure fire way to self destruct.

It kept his uncertainty at bay too. He never knew which way his mood would swing when the agitation settled over him - up or down? Or both? Or both at once? How fast could the cycle spin? How long is a piece of string of indeterminate length?

He didn't have any particular song or verse in mind as he composed. He was just letting his mind drift and giving his agitation sound. Albeit slightly out of tune with no set key or structure. Gin always said his music tended to mirror his thought patterns. Which was disturbing in and of itself.

But more disturbing was the disjointed sounds he was making now. It was like his piano was dying. But he wrote the song anyway. Just to keep busy and stop his mind chewing itself to bits. And it was better than pacing.

Some would call it an illness. Perhaps it was. Or maybe that was only part of it. Aizen knew there was far more to his restless agitation than a simple illness.

No, it was worse than an illness. It was a parasite. One with a mind of his own.

At least Gin wasn't here to see it. His concern would've been unbearable. Unnerve Aizen more. And make him look crazy for being this way. Not that he could help it. It had him in its grip and wasn't letting go for anything.

It felt like the walls were closing in whenever it stirred. Whenever it spoke. Because it had found him and burrowed it's way under his skin, through his lungs, past his heart, and into the part of his brain that was a little bitch that liked to needle him and rip apart all the good things in his life with flawed logic.

Of course the parasite would find that part of his brain. Of course the monster would exploit that weakness of his.

On some days it was hard not to listen to it when it spoke. When it tried to take away all the good things he had. Like Gin for one. Those jabs cut the deepest. Took the most air from his lungs. Poisoned any sense of happiness he might be feeling.

'You know he doesn't love you right? You know he's just playing along with you for fun.'

On those days it was painful to move, breathe, exist. It was all he could do when that voice in his head spoke to just keep standing and smiling and pretending everything was fine.

Because there was a part of him, albeit a small part, that wanted to crawl, despite the physical pain crippling his body, to Gin on those awful days and beg him, "Silence the voice, please."

And in those weaker moments he'd imagined Gin would say maybe there was a chance they could eradicate it somehow if they worked together.

Not that he'd indulge that part of him at all. That was a surefire way to make it worse.

And if Gin knew about it... gods only knew what would happen. The Darkness inside him would consume him completely and the monster inside him would rouse, enraged, and wreak it's havoc upon their lives.

At the very least it would hurt Gin. Poison him, too. Because he of all peoplenknew that darkness infects. That it poisons, taints, corrupts, damages and scars.

And truth be told he'd rather die than let that happen to his Gin. He'd rather be torn to shreds And left for dead in a ditch than allow that.

But that didn't stop him from feeling it everytime the voice spoke and the monster stirred. It didn't stop his skin from itching and his chest feeling hollow whenever he felt it move inside him. Just beneath the surface of his skin and at the back of his mind, reaching out and touching his nerves. Making him twitchy and jumpy and irritable.

Frustrated even with just how doomed he was. Even though he was frantically looking for a way out. A medicine. A cure. An antidote to the poisonous creature. Even though all those experiments had been failures.

Even though it was probably too late to Save him anyway.

'Fool. There is only one way out. And you know it.'

It was unsettling, because the more he tried to fight against it the more it seemed to resist. And in the quiet moments when it screamed it's loudest, the voice just drowned out everything, making his lungs collapse and cave in.

'Just give in.'

And it was in those moments, though he'd never admit it to anyone, the terror of becoming too much like the monster that wore him like a skin that there'd be no reverting back. No separating them again.

Because there were still moments in time when he looked back and realised, /with every passing moment I'm more like him. With every single step and Lie I'm becoming him/, and that was the most terrifying thing of all.

_It feels like everything inside is caving in._

_My lungs collapsing, fear relapsing, I'm giving in._

_With every moment I'm becoming more like him._

_With every step I become more like him_

It was hard to paste the smile onto his face in those times, but he did it. He had to. He had to keep up the act, the charade. Fit the norm and the designated box. If they ever found out he wasn't 'normal' they'd kill him. Or worse, lock him in a place where he'd never see the sun or the light of his moon ever again. The horror of not seeing the latter again a far more effective motivator than the former.

Thankfully he had said moon around to keep him relatively sane. To remind him that he was still him, still separate from the monster. To sleep beside him and drown out the voice. And chase away the nightmares, because more often than not the nights were dark and full of terrors.

 _But, don't be paranoid! there's nothing wrong with me!_ he'd tell himself. _Nothings changed, it's all the same, and I'm still me._

But the voice was keen on spoiling even that. And it sometimes felt like there'd never be a reprieve from it. It was a snake in the grass or a bear in the woods and he was the prey. Always waiting and watching for a moment of weakness to strike.

It would laugh in his face. 'You fool he won't ever silence me or help you eradicate me. He'll just laugh in your face and slam the door on you.'

And the worst part was, it made a convincing argument.

It only made him cling fast onto Gin though, in his own way. Even though he knew the Darkness would spread that like wildfire by doing so.

But he was selfish. And weak. And too much like the monster underneath his skin and his skull that he might as well be a parasite himself. He'd drain Gin dry and then he'd be nothing himself too.

The voice just laughed and mocked though.

'Yes you're a parasite you're just like me!'

Sometimes he did wonder if Gin saw him as he truly was. The way he saw himself when he looked in the mirror. The selfish parasite. Could Gin see that?

_See the monster walking in my skin?_ _It's reached my brain a_ _nd killed every bit of life inside me. How can you love a creature like that? How can you love me like that?_

He'd had that thought on his mind when he asked Gin what it was about him he loved. 

"I love everything about you," he'd said.

He'd smiled, said the right things in response. But his mind had other thoughts. Other questions. But _how can you when you don't know everything about me?_

"No really," he pried again, "Why me?"

Gin just smiled back at him. "You make me happy,"

He'd smiled again at that, but his thoughts chattered away still. _But how can you when you don't know all of me? Or see the monster walking miles in my skin?_

But those were questions he was too cowardly to ask. Because like the monster within, he truly was a parasite, sucking out all of the happiness Gin had to offer him.


End file.
